Jazz Gone Lost
by WellIDontKnow
Summary: She remembers nothing. Everything that happened before three weeks ago has disappeared. Her name, her memories, it's all gone. The only clue she has left from her past is a small wooden horse, which leads her to New Orleans – a city where hell is about to break loose.
1. Prologue

**We Want War**

_.._

_..._

_Some of these trees have been growing for years _

_The leaves on the floor must be five meters deep _

_The paths are a labyrinth or even a trap _

_Some tides don't turn, some things never come back. _

_Shadows dance back up, it's happening again _

_If you listen carefully you might hear them whisper:_

_"We hold all the secrets, we hold all the words;_

_but they're scrambled and broken so you'll never know"_

_..._

_.._


	2. Float

_._

_*** I have decided to create my own character and place her in The Originals universe in New Orleans. The story will focus on her, though small side-stories about the other characters may occur. I plan on updating once a week, but I can't promise anything. Please let me know what you think***_

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The girl lied on the table, not moving, not making a sound. The only sign that she was alive was the strained breath, the sound of the air being pulled into her lungs just to leave way too quickly. The only thing that seemed constant was the pain. Everything else was floating around her, like liquid she couldn't hold onto. She sank in and out of a state between almost consciousness and blackness. Nothing seemed real but the pain. The pain vibrated through her body like every nerve was getting cut over just to heal, over and over again. If she could she would scream. If she could move she would. But she was caught in some sort of prison of her mind. Time was as liquid as everything else. The pain could have lasted for years or for second. She couldn't get grip of reality – until a voice dragged her to the surface.

"_Vatos matos crescat…_" the humming sound of a hoarse voice. And then a scream. A heartbreaking, painful scream that she realized must have been her own. She broke through the walls build up to keep her in check, tried to fight free of the wires holding her, tried to fight the pain pulling her down.

"Mom, what's happening to her?" a worried girls voice called.

"She's waking up," the mother answered, the hum stopping, "help me hold her down."

"No," the girl on the table mumbled, "please…" she broke out of her head and the pain threatened to make her insane. She screamed, she fought against the hands holding her, she would do anything to be free of the pain. Anything. Her vision was blurred, but she clearly saw the scared face of the mother, who stood over her. The mothers brown eyes were so determined. The girl on the table coughed – she couldn't breathe.

"Mom, make it stop! Make it stop!" the daughter yelled while she struggled to hold the girl on the tables' legs.

"No!" the mother yelled back, "we need her. We need her."

"No!" the girl screamed as the woman began humming again and the pain continued.

"No…" she repeated, felt the liquid feeling overwhelming her. She build up enough strength to pull one of her hands free – no thought crossed her mind as she grabbed the woman's head and brought it down on the edge of the table with a cracking sound.

The pain disappeared in a second, like it was never there.

"No!" the daughter screamed, falling to her knees, "what did you do?! What did you do…" Her breath was heavy, like it was having trouble fighting it's way to her chest. The girl on the table sat, looked at her hands, then on the body on the floor. Blood was streaming from the woman's forehead.

"Run," the girl at the table whispered, "run!" the daughter got on her feet and left in such a hurry she didn't even have time to gaze back at her mother. The girl on the table looked at her hands again, as a new pain overwhelmed her body – but this kind of pain was different. It was like something inside her broke free and ran through her veins changing her entire body. The girl fell to the floor next to her first victim as the pain emerged. Her body ached into a wild position and as she looked up her light-blue eyes had turned a wild, bestial yellow. A howl escaped her lips, as her hidden side broke free.

.

There was something in her hand. She realized this after what seemed like hours staring at the dead woman. She opened her hand and saw a small, wooden figure.

"A horse," she mumbled, "a horse?" She looked down her body, then around the small room. It seemed like some sort of living room, filled with herbs and rocks and mirrors. She caught her own eye, knew that it was herself, the girl in the mirror, but she felt no recognition. The light-blue eyes, an inch too big for her small face, the dark brown curls that twisted down her shoulders, the slightly tanned skin, the small hands and marked cheekbones.

"Who am I?" she whispered to her reflection. It's not that she remembered to be someone else – it's that she didn't remember being anyone at all.

"Where am I?" she then asked, as if she hoped for the other her to answer. There was only silence. She looked around again, eyeing a map hanging on the wall. It's North America, she knew after just a glance. But how do I know, she thought to herself. I know that I know, but I don't remember how I learned. She shook her head, trying to make sense of it all. But there was nothing to make sense of.

"I know how to talk and walk and I know how North America looks like and I know how a living room is supposed to look like," she said it out loud, tried to force some sense into it without success, "but I have no idea how I learned all that stuff." She looked out the window, which revealed a forest just outside of the house.

"I'm in a forest," she mumbled slowly, "shit."

.

She wandered the woods for hours, feeling like she was walking in a circle. Her head was getting clearer by the minute. She remembered song lyrics and a recipe of pancakes and she said all the capitals of the 50 states out loud to herself. But she had no memories. She didn't remember who her parents were or what her name was or where she was from.

"What did that woman do to me?" she asked out loud. There was no answer. It was getting darker and colder, but she kept walking, simply because she had nowhere to go. She pulled the stolen shirt closer and did her best to ignore how annoying it was that the shoes she had to steal from the dead woman and her daughter, was two numbers too big. When she woke up on the table all she wore was an oversize white t-shirt. She couldn't exactly hike a wood only wearing that. The last sunbeam hit her face before the sun disappeared in the horizon and darkness surrounded her. She shivered.

"This place is creepy," she mumbled to herself, "how the hell am I supposed to get out of here now?" She considered trying to find her way back to the cabin, when the moon appeared above her and every bone in her body began to break.

.

She woke up on the forest floor, naked and exhausted. She was squeezing the wooden horse in her hand and tears of confusion and anger streamed down her face.

"What the hell?!" she cried looking around. She had vague memorize of running through the wood, power vibrating through every inch of her body. She remembered the sound of a howl, she remembered the feeling of the forest beneath her paws. Wait a second. _Paws_? She closed her eyes and tried to rationalize it inside of her mind.

"Great," she mumbled, "not only am I an memory-less nobody, I'm a friggin wolf as well?" Amazing basis for a normal life, she thought bitterly. She knew she needed to find the cabin and steal some new clothes and like her wolf-self had had the same thought she only needed to walk between a few trees before seeing the cabin.

.

The new shoes she stole were only one number too big and she tried to be grateful about that as she wandered alongside a lonely road, hoping she was actually headed in the right direction. According to a map she found in the cabin, this was the way to Vancouver. She needed to find civilization – she had had enough of the woods for the rest of her life.

"Be grateful about the friggin shoes," she mumbled, putting her hands in her pockets, "never mind that you're a friggin werewolf."

.

She ended up in a bar in Vancouver after hitchhiking for hours and finally getting lucky when an old married couple in a tiny Toyota showed her mercy and picked her up. She headed for the bar and sat next to a guy who seemed half asleep. The female bartender, obviously hating her job, looked at her impatiently.

"Come on, don't got all day, sunshine," the bartender snapped. The girl gave the bartender her meanest look.

"Listen, _sunshine_, I've had a really crappy, well, life. So bite it, will you?" she hissed and regretted instantly when the bartender angrily turned around without bothering to take her order.

"Easy there, wolfy," a beautiful voice laughed and an incredibly pretty girl sat down next to her. She was a petit girl, and she looked awfully young.

"What did you call me?"

"Wolfy. I'm Davina. I'm a witch. It's sort of my thing to sense supernatural creatures and you are definitely a new wolf. Am I wrong?" Davina asked with an attitude that clearly showed that she knew she wasn't wrong. At all.

"That explains a lot," the girl mumbled, thinking back at the living room filled with herbs and rocks. The mother and her daughter were witches.

"Bartender!" Davina called, "bring my friend here your finest bourbon. It's on me, don't worry." Davina rolled her eyes at the diva-bartender.

"So," the girl said slowly, "you're a witch. I'm a wolf. Is this real?"

"I'm afraid so," Davina laughed and looked at the girl thoroughly, "are you okay? I sense a lot of confusion."

"I _am_ confused."

"It can be a little overwhelming the first time if you didn't grow up in it. It was a full moon last night, wasn't it?" Davina asked. The girl nodded slowly and took a sip of the bourbon. Warmth started to spread through her body. The feeling of every bone breaking in her body was burned into her mind.

"You haven't told me your name yet," Davina stated. The girl shrugged.

"I don't remember it."

"What do you mean, you don't remember it?"

"What I'm saying, genius. I woke up on a table yesterday, some crazy-ass witch humming over me. It was like she burned me entire body over and over again. So… I killed her," the girl said the last thing lowly, afraid someone would hear her, "the next thing I know I have paws. Did she turn me into a wolf?" Davina shook her head.

"No. When you killed her, you triggered your wolf-gene. It's hereditary."

"Great," the girl mumbled, "then what the hell did she want from me?"

"You have absolutely no clue about who you are?" Davina asked surprised, taking sips from a glass with an expensive looking liquid in.

"No," the girl sighed, then smiled, "wait, that's not entirely true. I woke up with this." She put the wooden horse on the table and the reaction from Davina was nothing like she expected.

"No way," Davina gasped, a thousand feelings floating through her eyes. The girl felt uneasy.

"That explains the wolf-thing," Davina whispered.

"What?"

"You need to go to New Orleans. Find Niklaus. Niklaus Mikaelson. He practically owns the city, so be careful. Tell him what happened to you," Davina said, getting up to leave.

"Why would the guy who owns New Orleans listen to me? What does he know?"

"He'll listen to you if you show him the horse. Trust me. And… just don't tell anyone that you met me here, okay? I have to go." With that Davina disappeared.

"Wait… what?!"

.

In New Orleans Niklaus Mikaelson was slowly fighting his way out of the daze made up by blood, bodies and revenge. He had killed everyone from the coven of witches that supposedly had taken his little Hope.

"One year," Klaus said out loud, not bothering to wipe away the blood on his face, "she was safe for _one year_. Just a baby…" He sighed and looked at the last dead witches lying with open throats. There was no sign of Hope anywhere he had gone. These last witches were stupid enough to go to New Orleans and now they were dead, killed on a rooftop in the Quarter by the Original hybrid.

"I am immortal," Klaus said as he stared over the city, the home he had fought so hard to make safe for his daughter, "and so is my misery."

.


	3. Becoming Jazz

*** _I would really appreciate a review, I'd love to know what you guys think!*** _

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She didn't remember if she had tried to steal from people's pockets before, but she was good at it. She tried not to think too much about anything – she had done more immoral and directly evil things in the last 30 hours than most people did in their entire lives. After around seven hours, pick pocketing from people in downtown Vancouver she gathered she had enough money to get out of there. For a while she considered going to New York and make herself a life. Pick a name, an identity and just disappear in the crowd. But as she entered the bus station and went to the long line of people about to get away, she couldn't let herself do it. She had to know who she was. And the only lead she had was the wooden horse. New Orleans. Niklaus Mikaelson. When she reached the cashier she grabbed most of the money from her pocket and took a deep breath.

"New Orleans. One way."

.

It took her 47 hours to get to New Orleans from Vancouver. She had to change bus in Austin, but apart from the few hours spend in Austin Bus Central, she had slept pretty much the entire time. She was exhausted. Now she was stuck in a town she didn't know with almost no money and no identity. She only had about five dollars left, just enough to grab a cup of coffee and some breakfast. I have nothing, she thought, nothing. Weirdly enough she didn't feel sorry for herself, she didn't feel like she was missing something – she had never had anything, as far as she remembered, so there was nothing to miss, nothing to compare to.

For a while she wandered around downtown New Orleans, looking for any kind of authority to ask about Niklaus Mikaelson. Finally she eyed a cop, and practically had to run after him, to catch him before he disappeared in the crowd.

"Sir!" she yelled, trying to catch her breath. The cop turned around, looking at her suspiciously. She realized how she must look in his eyes – unwashed hair, dirty clothes that was too big, tired eyes.

"I'm looking for Niklaus Mikaelson," she said slowly and recognition – and disgust – appeared in the cop's eyes.

"Klaus lives in the French Quarter," he snapped and hurried away, mumbling about how it couldn't be possible that he had to deal with all those awful creatures on a daily basis. He must know, she thought, and he must hate it.

"You and me both, brother," she mumbled and sighed hopelessly. This was a shot in the dark. The way Davina spoke of Klaus didn't exactly suggest that he was a kind man. Davina was afraid of him.

"Maybe I'll get lucky," she mumbled to herself, "maybe he'll kill me and save me from all the trouble."

.

It wasn't as easy to get to Klaus as she first expected when she left Vancouver. She had to get past a pretty impressive number of really creepy bodyguard-guys, but luckily, she apparently was born with amazing persuading skills. And a temper – she realized this when she, sick and tired of being bossed around all day by intimidating guys, pushed her way past a tall man and went straight in the door to this powerful Niklaus Mikaelsons office. It was obvious that all the people she had talked her way through the entire day was loyal to this man to a point where they would die for him. She didn't understand why – working for him was just a job, wasn't it? – until she met him in person. Even as he sat there behind the big oak desk, he looked powerful. He was obviously agile, strong, even though he at first glance seemed skinny and boned. His entire posture radiated power, charm, malice. He was the most dangerous combination of a man, both wicked and persuasive. A psychopath. She could feel it, just by looking at him. His curly, blond hair was almost angelic, but the devil was shining from his blue eyes, as he looked up at the intruder and smiled a quirky, wry smile. The tall man who guarded the door bumped into the office.

"Sir, I am awfully sorry. She took me by surprise, I'll get rid of her," he stammered, grabbing her arm. He was _strong_ – superhuman strong. She couldn't help but gasp.

"No need, Toma," he waved at the guy who let go of her – she rubbed her arm to get rid of the pain, "I admire a brave soul. Even a reckless wolf soul." The guy, Toma, disappeared as fast as he got there and they were alone. She suddenly didn't know how to express herself. What was she supposed to say?

"Are you here to give me your allegiance?" Klaus asked with a strong British accent, not taking his eyes from the papers in front of him. She couldn't help but laugh at his old-fashioned ways and his gaze immediately fell on her.

"Am I amusing you, young wolf?"

"Ehm… no," she said, "I'm not here to give you my… _allegiance_. I'm here to get some answers."

"That sounds like wolf-business. I rarely intervene in those," he sounded like he was bored.

"I was told to come see you. Da… _someone _told me that you could give me my answers."

"Sweetheart, I do not have time to answer your silly questions. I have plots to create, people to kill. Now, off you go." She snapped. She had been tossed around in a world that made no sense for days and she wasn't able to take any more bull.

"No, you _listen _to me!" she hissed and again his eyes fell on her, this time with surprise, "I woke up five days ago laying on a table with some crazy ass witch basically magically sticking knives into my body repeatedly, _so I had to kill her_. Then I find out that I'm in a cabin in a _fucking Canadian wood_! I don't remember anything, okay? I don't even remember my name! Everything that happened more than five days ago is just gone. I have been breaking every bone in my body turning into a wolf, walked round a forest for hours, then spent more than two days on a bus, just to get to speak to you! So you better just listen to me, Mikaelson, 'cuz I am _done_ with bullshit!" A surprised wrinkle showed up on his forehead, before his entire face turned dark.

"Now, now, little wolf, what makes you think I will tell you what you need? I _never _do anything for free," he sounded more evil than she thought possible and she felt her mouth dry out. Before she could chicken out she grabbed the wooden horse from her pocket and placed it on the table.

"I was told that you would tell me who I am, if I showed you this," her voice was hoarse, low. Then, before she could even get anything, she was pressed towards the wall, Klaus' hand around her throat. She gasped for air.

"_Where did you get that?!_" he howled, showing to be the monster she sensed in him from the minute she walked in the door.

"I don't know," she gasped, "I had it when I woke up. I told you, I don't remember anything!" He stared at her with his eyes an alarming yellow, before slowly loosing his grip. His pupils expanded and she felt her free will float from her body.

"Where did you wake up?" he asked.

"A cabin in a wood about an hour from Vancouver," she immediately answered.

"In which direction did you go to get to Vancouver?"

"West."

"Do you remember the route?"

"Route 6."

"Who told you about me?"

"A witch named Davina," she promised not to tell – but she couldn't help it. He let her go from the mind control and she felt the terrible helplessness overwhelm her.

"What did you do?" she whispered – she had promised herself not to rat Davina out.

"I compelled you," Klaus said matter-of-factly and returned to his majestic desk, "a little vampire trick you wouldn't be aware of if you really don't remember anything, young wolf." She felt her head spin. It couldn't be true. But then again… she did have paws at full moon.

"Vampire?"

"Indeed, sweetheart."

"So… you're a vampire? And your guys…?"

"Oh well, my guys are all vampires, yes. A few are wolves like you, though. But I… I am a hybrid. A mix of both. Which makes me extraordinary powerful," he smiled that wicked smile and sat behind the desk, "now, I really do not have any more time to waste on this irrelevant matter. Off you go."

"But you haven't told me anything!"

"I do not know anything about you. I have never seen you before in my thousand years on this planet."

"And what about that thing?" she asked, pointing at the wooden horse.

"That is simply a creation that comes along with something very precious to me, that I seem to have lost. Nothing for you to worry about. Now, go."

"But why did I have it?!" she wasn't gonna give up – she had come this far.

"That is a mystery that yet remains to be solved," he said indifferent.

"That can't be all," she hissed, "there _has _to be more!"

"Toma!" Klaus called annoyed – the bodyguard vampire showed up in a nanosecond, "the little wolf seems to have forgotten where the exit is. Will you please show her the way?" Toma grabbed her arm and she couldn't help it: she fought against him.

"Now, don't fuss, love," Klaus said without looking up as she was dragged out of the office, "this is, after all, my city, and I will know."

.

As in Vancouver she ended up in a bar. She didn't have any money left, but she sat at the bar, hoping someone would by her a drink or at least pass by her close enough so that she could buy herself a drink for their money.

"Are you 21, honey?" the female bartender, a woman with beautiful dark skin and curly hair, asked.

"22," she answered indifferent – how was she supposed to know? – and rested her head in her hands. Could this day get crappier?

"You do know that werewolves not loyal to Klaus aren't allowed in this city, right?" the bartender said, surprisingly openly. The girl looked around and immediately sensed it: a very few people in this place were human and those who were, were witches. She just knew.

"Great," she mumbled annoyed, "walk into a random bar, end up in the supernatural Makah. Does this mean I'll get free drinks?" The witch just smiled and shook her head.

"Sorry, honey, that's not how we play here."

"I am _so _tired of witches today, okay? So please, don't get on my bad side. The last person I killed was a witch," she sighed.

"Duly noted, wolf-girl. You still won't get a free drink, though," the witch shrugged.

"I'll buy you a drink," a voice interrupted and a dark-haired chick with brownish eyes and full lips sat next to her, "you look like you've had a tough day."

"Yeah. I dealt with this really obnoxious hybrid on a power trip. Exhausting."

"Since I'm the only other hybrid in town, you must be talking about Klaus," the chick laughed, "don't worry about him. He's an ass, but if you don't cross him, he got it all in the mouth. I would know, I deal with him on a daily basis."

"Yeah? Why?" the girl asked and sipped on the drink the witch brought.

"I sorta live with him. Sometimes."

"You _live _with that thing?! Really?"

"It's a long story," the chick shrugged and grabbed some peanuts from a bowl, "let's just say we have mutual interests. I'm Hayley, by the way."

"I'm no one," the girl sighed and emptied her glass.

"What do you mean, no one?" Hayley asked and again the girl had to tell the story of the cabin in Canada.

"That sucks," Hayley mumbled and pushed the bowl with peanuts towards the girl.

"Yup."

"But you're a wolf?"

"So I'm told."

"And you really believe your answers are here in New Orleans?"

"It's all I got."

"Well," Hayley said matter-of-factly, "in that case I should probably take you to the bayou."

"The bayou?"

"Were the werewolves lives," she said, ""we'll make you a home there." The girl was taken by surprise by Hayley's kindness.

"Really?"

"We wolves take care of our own," Hayley smiled and got up, "you coming?"

Out on the street Hayley suddenly stopped and turned around.

"You should probably pick a name," she said and smiled, "make it good. You don't get to change it." The girl looked around, not really caring what her self chosen name was, because she knew it wasn't her real name – it couldn't be – and was about to say Mary, the first thing that popped into her mind, when she saw a sign over a bar. _White Jasmine_. She couldn't help but smile.

"Jasmine," she said and Hayley's face lit up in a smile.

"Jasmine. _Jazz_. I like it."

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End file.
